


A Flash of Lightning

by coldflashwavebaby



Series: Coldflashwave Week [3]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Barry is a Mardon, Canonical Character Death, Criminal Barry Allen, Just angst, M/M, Metahuman Leonard Snart, Metahuman Mick Rory, coldflashwave week, not really any romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-04
Updated: 2016-10-04
Packaged: 2018-08-19 11:45:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8205286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: In which Barry Allen and the Mardons are brothers, and his life took a very different turn.Coldflashwave Week-Day Three: Alternate Earth/Role Reversal





	

            Eobard Thawne never killed Nora Allen. Truth be told, he never really got the chance.

            When Barry Allen was four, Henry and Nora Allen died in a car accident. He’d been asleep in the backseat, holding his Superman action figure in his arms. When the car flipped, Nora Allen broke her neck almost immediately. Henry Allen, on the other hand, was rushed to the hospital, dying after hours of surgery.

            Barry had been uninjured. In fact, the boy hadn’t even woken up until the EMTs were carrying him out of the wreck, his Superman doll still clutched in his arms. In less than an hour, Barry Allen became an orphan, and not two days later, he was thrown into the system. There was no relative to take him, no family friends to adopt him. Joe West, the father of Barry’s best friend Iris, was asked if he could take him in, but Joe’s ex-wife, Francine, had recently died, leaving their four-year-old son in his care, and adding an extra kid would have been too much on him.

            So, Barry went into a foster home. And another. And another. With each foster home, there was some new reason why they couldn’t keep him—he woke up in the middle of the night afraid, the other kids didn’t get along with him, he was too much work. It took a year for him to finally be put into a home where people actually wanted him.

            The Mardon’s weren’t the perfect family. The father was a trucker with anger management issues that was always away, while the mother drank herself into a stupor every night. Barry was the only foster child they had, and they really only wanted him for the money. Soon, though, Barry started calling it home. His new brothers were the only thing that really brightened his home life—Mark and Clyde.

            The Mardon Brothers accepted Barry into their lives almost immediately. Mark, the oldest, usually cared for him and Clyde when their mother was passed out, making sure that both of them were fed and kept happy. Clyde—who was closer to his age, but still about three years older—was one of those brothers that always gave Barry hell, from convincing him that the man living in his closet was real and wanted to take his Superman to one memorable occasion where he convinced Barry to let him shave his head (thank God Mark had found out what was going on before Clyde found the electric razor). But if anyone ever messed with Barry, like Tony Woodward when he tried to steal his lunch and throw him headfirst into the trashcan, Clyde was always the first to jump in and defend him.

            It wasn’t the perfect childhood. There was no white picket fence and Christmas card picture, but Barry had a family that would do anything for him, and he returned their loyalty enthusiastically.

When Mark turned eighteen, their parents kicked him out, claiming that he was an adult and he had to fend for himself. Barry, who was eleven at the time, cried for weeks, until finally his foster father, home for a week and sick of listening to him, backhanded him across the room. Apparently, for Barry’s brothers, that was the line.

That night, Barry was woken by the sound of someone moving around his room. When he opened his eyes, he could see Mark digging through his things and shoving them into a backpack.

“Mark…?”

His brother stopped what he was doing and rushed to Barry’s bedside. “Hey, Bare.”

“Whas…what’s going on?” Barry sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

“You and Clyde are coming to live with me now.” Mark smiled in that way that Barry knew meant something had happened and he didn’t want Barry to freak out.

Barry frowned. “Where’s Clyde? What happened?”

Mark sighed. “Clyde…he’s making sure we have everything. We’re not going to be able to come back for anything. I just…” He looked back at the bedroom door and shook his head. “I need you to trust me, Bare. Can you do that?” 

Swinging his legs off the side of the bed, Barry nodded. He did trust Mark, even when he was keeping things from him. He scurried around his room, grabbing things that he needed or he couldn’t bring himself to leave behind—a picture of his parents, his Superman, _The Runaway Dinosaur_ book his mother used to read to him—and he shoved them into the backpack.

Mark picked up the backpack and threw it over his shoulder, before lifting Barry into his arms like he did when Barry was younger (despite his age, Barry was still small and light enough that Mark could carry him effortlessly). “Close your eyes, Barry, and don’t open them until I tell you.”

Barry obeyed, squeezing his eyes shut and burying his face into his brother’s shoulder. He could hear Mark opening his bedroom door and hurrying down the hall towards the stairs. A new set of footsteps joined his, which Barry could only assume was Clyde, and there were hushed, angry whispers between the two of them. When they walked down the stairs, a slight metallic smell hit Barry’s nose. He dug his face further into Mark’s shirt.

Once they were outside the house, Mark told him to open his eyes. It was dark still, the moon giving off very little light. Parked at the edge of the curb was an old black car. Mark carried him to it, opening the door and sitting him in the back seat. There was a pillow and blanket on the seat that Barry took full advantage of, practically passing out once his head touched the pillow.

The next morning, he woke up in a bare bedroom in a scarcely decorated apartment that Mark explained was going to be their new home for a while. In Keystone. 

When he turned on the small T.V set, he understood why. The story was top news: An couple found murdered in Central. Their eleven-year-old foster son and fourteen-year-old son were nowhere to be found.

0000000

**Fourteen Years (and a particle accelerator explosion) Later…**

Barry hung quietly around the bank, filling out a deposit slip with fake information. There were two guards he could see: one was an old man that looked close to retirement, the other young and green. Adjusting his cap and sunglasses, he laughed silently. Piece of cake.

The door to the bank opened. Without turning, Barry knew it was Clyde. He watched his brother out of the corner of his eye as he approached the teller. Then, a storm brewed across the ceiling. Barry put on a shocked face and ran from the bank with the rest of the bystanders. A few minutes passed and the skylight blew out from the roof. Then, fog erupted from the doorway.

There was his cue. Making sure no one saw, Barry flashed into the building. He’d never get over how amazing it was, running faster than anyone else in the world, seeing everyone else move in slow motion as he moved through them effortlessly. On his way past, he snatched a few wallets from some unsuspecting pedestrians, before speeding towards his brother, grabbing him, and flashing them both away.

He didn’t stop until they were back at their safe house. “ _Wow_.” Barry exclaimed, throwing his hat on the ratty couch with his sunglasses. “That was amazing! What a rush!”

Clyde laughed with him as he dropped the duffel of money on the table. “Welcome home, Bare!” He announced, taking two handfuls of money and throwing it in the air.

“And what, exactly, have you two been up to?”

Both froze in place at the disapproving sound of Mark’s voice. When they turned, the oldest brother was leaned against the doorjamb of the bedroom, arms crossed over his chest. “I thought we said we were going to lay low. The police think that the two of us,” he motioned to himself and Clyde, “are dead. And, as is, Barry has no criminal record. Which reminds me, what the hell were you thinking dragging Barry along with you?”

 Barry could already see a storm brewing between his two brothers, and, like always, he jumped to stop it. “It wasn’t his fault. I asked to go. I wanted to try out my powers, and I want to help out.”

Mark deflated. He could never really stay mad at Barry. “Barry, you have a degree. Go get a job, make something of yourself. You don’t _have_ to resort to robbing banks.”

“But…that’s what you guys do.” The speedster argued. “I want to use my powers to help you guys.”

“No, Barry.” Mark shook his head. “You’re not like us—you’re too…soft, for what we do. You’re my brother, and I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“You let Clyde help.”

“Clyde wasn’t supposed to go, either.” Mark glared at their brother.

“But he has!”

Mark sighed. “Barry, I don’t want to argue. I’m going back to Keystone tonight to get the rest of our stuff, and I need to trust that neither of you are going to do anything stupid while I’m gone. Alright?”

Barry sat on the arm of the couch and pouted. Mark was always like this—too overprotective, thinking that Barry was so delicate he would break.

“Barry. Alright?” Mark repeated. He let out a breath.

“Fine. I won’t do anything while you’re gone. Promise.”

Mark nodded. He knew Barry was good on his word—he never made a promise he wouldn’t keep. Barry looked away, not wanting to see the pleased expression on his brother’s face, when he felt arms wrap around him.

“When I get back in a few weeks, we’ll talk about it. Okay, Bare?”

The speedster leaned into his brother’s embrace. He felt a twinge of hope, like everything was going to get better.

0000000

            Of course it wouldn’t. Clyde, in his rashness, tried to take on a couple of other metahumans playing hero by summoning a tornado and was killed in the ensuing fight—a shard of ice through his heart. Barry didn’t know if Mark had heard anything—Clyde had been carrying the phone that had his burner’s number in it and the only other number Barry had was disconnected—but soon, the two metas were everywhere.

            Captain Cold and Heatwave.

            One dressed in a blue parka and goggles with ice powers. The other in an ash covered fireman’s jacket and goggles with fire powers.

            Barry sneered as he scrolled through article after article about the so-called heroes, until finally he found a pattern. Every time an alarm went off, the two were there at least sixty seconds before first responders. Meaning that they not only had impeccable timing, but also knew response times perfectly.

            So, really, for someone as smart as Barry, setting a trap was very easy. All it took was some liquid nitrogen traps for the fire guy, an experimental chemical (curtesy of Mercury Labs—which may have been a bit stolen) that burned at such a high temperature, even the coldest meta would have a hard time putting it out.

            Then, it came down to bait. He researched hospital records after the particle accelerator explosion, and lo and behold, there were two CCPD detectives injured that night—Michael ‘Mick’ Rory and Leonard Snart.

            Both of which had the same emergency contact—Lisa Snart.

0000000

            “Glad to see the two of you could join me.” He smirked. Rory was frozen in place, unable to move anything but his eyes. Snart was trapped in a tight circle of flames so hot, there was barely enough condensation in the air for ice. Beside Barry, Lisa Snart was tied up and unconscious from where Barry’d sedated her. “Don’t worry—Lisa is fine.”

            She’d been a nice hostage to have. She’d given him a sympathetic ear when he told her about what the two heroes had taken from him and even opened up about her and Leonard’s childhood with their father. But now, it was time for revenge. And she didn’t need to see it.

            Snart sneered. “You son of a bitch. You let my sister go.”

            Barry shrugged. “I was already going to. She’s not the one I’m after.” He cut Lisa loose, making sure she didn’t slump to the floor. “I would never murder someone’s sibling for no reason.”

            Snart’s anger lessened into confusion. He stared at Barry until something must have clicked. “You’re Barry Allen, aren’t you? Clyde Mardon’s foster brother.”

            Barry walked over to stand in front of his brother’s murderer and tilted his head to the side. “It’s so funny—Central thinks you’re some kind of hero, but I know what you really are. You froze my brother’s heart. You _murdered_ him!”

            “He was going to destroy Central!” Heatwave argued.

            “No, he wouldn’t have!” Barry yelled back, his eyes not leaving the piercing stare of Captain Cold. “Clyde knew I was there, and he never would’ve put me in danger. He was just being stupid!”

            He knew he had angry tears running down his face, but he didn’t care. They needed to see the aftermath of what they’d done.

            “He was going to kill Mick.”

            Snart said it so quietly, Barry almost didn’t catch it. “What?”

            “We’d already defeated your brother and stopped the tornado. We could hear the police coming. But he had a gun, and he was going to shoot Mick in the head. I couldn’t…I couldn’t let him kill the man I love…”

            Barry wanted to call him a liar, but he knew it sounded like something Clyde would do—try to fight his way out instead of surrendering.

            “I wasn’t trying to kill him.” Snart continued. “I meant to just push him back, but I was so angry and I lost control. _He was going to murder Mick_.” He said the words like they meant something so much deeper, and maybe they did.

            “If you want to kill me for it, then kill me. But don’t kill Mick.”

            Barry unknowingly took a step back. Cold was nothing like he expected when he pictured his brother’s murderer. He thought that he’d be able to look the cold man in the eye and shove a vibrating hand right through his chest. Hearing the man beg for the life of his sister and partner (lover?), though, gave him a new perspective into the man. Now he knew what Mark meant when he said Barry was too soft for the life—he couldn’t kill. He couldn’t kill the man that murdered his brother.

            A shuffling behind him drew his attention, and suddenly, a beam of gold shot past his head. Barry flashed away by the time another came at him, but it was clear that Lisa Snart was awake. And, apparently, a meta.

            When he turned back, she was freeing Snart from his trap, and Rory was already defrosting. Instead of going back to face them, Barry flashed back to the safe house he now lived alone in. Once the door closed, he collapsed on the floor and cried.

            Mark was supposed to be back in a few days. How would Barry tell him he hadn’t been able to get revenge for Clyde’s death? Or that, maybe, he thought that their brother’s killer may have been justified?

            He left the answers for another time.


End file.
